Let Me Take You To A
by hwshipper
Summary: House Wilson established relationship. Gay bar. Threesome with original male character. Sex.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** Let Me Take You To A...**  
AUTHOR: **hwshipper**  
DISCLAIMER**: All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.  
**A/N:** Written for gethouselaid prompt 220. House/Wilson -- gay bar.  
**BETA**: starlingthefool saved me on this one, big time.

**Let Me Take You To A...**

'I'm dying for a drink,' House announced, striding across the car park. The bar sat invitingly in front of them, blues music leaking faintly out of the windows.

Wilson followed, dragging his feet. 'House, we've been driving all day. And all yesterday. I really don't want to spend an evening in a smoky bar.'

'Just the one drink,' House said untruthfully, pushing the door open and walking in. 'Anyway, at least we don't have to drive anywhere afterwards. The motel's just next door.'

House headed for the bar, leaned on the counter, and took a look round the room . Wilson sat on a bar stool next to him, then seeing House's expression, swiveled his own head around to look. Then they both looked at each other with identical raised eyebrows.

The bar was full of men, and only men; men talking together, sitting together, holding hands, touching knees, arms round shoulders, arms round waists.

'Wanna split?' House said quietly.

Wilson hesitated, gazing around the bar. 'Well... we are a long way from home. It's not like we're going to bump into anyone we know.' He shrugged. 'And we haven't passed another bar in miles. Why not stay? Just for one drink.'

'Hmph.' House was amused. 'You've changed your tune. It's the hunky barman, isn't it?'

'I hadn't noticed,' Wilson protested, with a smile.

'Oh come on,' House scoffed. 'I saw you checking him out.' His blue eyes gleamed. 'So long as checking out is _all _you do. You're coming back to that motel room with _me_ tonight.'

* * *

By his third drink, Wilson felt himself start to relax to the point where he thought he was starting to enjoy himself. He had to admit it was kind of liberating - but it also took some getting used to. House had spent most of the last half-hour with his hand firmly attached to Wilson's knee, and as much as Wilson liked that, he was finding showing that kind of affection in public was difficult, altering the habit of a lifetime. He suspected that House, although much less inhibited on the surface, was finding it as strange as he was and was overcompensating.

Another reason Wilson had started to enjoy himself was that for the last ten minutes, he had noticed a man standing down the end of the bar looking at him. Wilson was attuned to spotting this sort of thing, having had it most of his life from women. He steadfastedly refused to catch the man's eye, as House would be bound to notice, but covertly managed to look at the man a couple of times when he thought he could get away with it. The man was fair, clean-shaven, taller and older than Wilson, but shorter and younger than House, and wearing a leather jacket.

House's cell phone rang. He looked at the screen and cursed. 'Have to take this,' he said, and stood up. 'Might be a few minutes.' He walked off outside, flipping the phone open. Wilson heard House say, 'Yes?' just before the bar door closed behind him.

Wilson sat on his own for barely a minute before the bartender put another Jack Daniels down in front of him. 'I didn't order this,' Wilson said.

The bartender replied, 'You've got him to thank for that,' and nodded sideways. Lo and behold, it was from the man down the bar who had been looking at him.

Wilson looked at him, catching his eye this time, automatically smiling a thank-you, and that was all the encouragement the man needed to approach.

'Hi. Haven't seen you here before,' the man said, smiling warmly, taking the bar stool next to Wilson's. The stool where House had been sitting a moment before. Close up, Wilson could see the stranger had soft grey eyes. And a nice smile. And perfect teeth. His hair, already fair, had been bleached a lighter shade by the sun at the front, where it curled over towards his eyes. He was wearing a casual shirt under the leather jacket, unbuttoned at the top, and Wilson's gaze was drawn to the line of his neck vanishing down into his collar.

Wilson opened his mouth to reply and swallowed, surprised to find his mouth had filled with saliva for no apparent reason.

'No, we're just passing through,' said Wilson, feeling it was important to mention the_ we_.

'Vacation?' The man sipped his drink, and Wilson curled his hand round his own glass without picking it up.

'Kinda. My - friend - wanted to hit the road, and took me along for the ride. Actually I'm not even sure where we're going.'

'Your _boyfriend_,' the man said, and Wilson felt himself get a kick out the word, but also blushed, 'sounds like a man of impulse. Romantic impulse.'

Wilson laughed, and tightened his hand round his glass. 'Impulse, maybe. He just showed up at my door and said, we're going on a road trip. Didn't say where, or how long it would take.'

The stranger saw a slight shadow pass over Wilson's face and changed the subject smoothly. 'Well, I hope you like it round here. I'm a local - I live just a ways down towards the beach.'

'You come here often?' Wilson asked, with a self-deprecating smile at the cliché.

The man smiled back. 'Couple of times a week, I get on my bike and mosey on up.'

'You ride a motorbike?' Wilson nearly said _So does House_, and just stopped himself. Why was it that he couldn't have a friendly conversation with a stranger without mentioning House every other sentence?

'A Harley,' the man said casually.

Wilson glanced down; as well as the jacket, the man was wearing a biker's leather trousers. They were black and sleek and tight. Wilson felt a twinge. House sometimes wore pants like that, and they never failed to get a reaction out of Wilson.

'Nice,' said Wilson. 'Not that I know anything about motorbikes,' he hastily admitted.

'So what _do _you know about, pretty boy?' the stranger said lightly.

Wilson laughed, a little nervously, and put his head on one side. 'I'm a doctor. Well, training to be a doctor, anyway. I've just started as a resident up at Boston.'

'Then you're a long way from home. A doctor, eh? Very worthy. So you know all about the human body, then.' The man gazed at Wilson.

'I guess I'm learning.' Wilson met the man's eyes, then dipped his own, looking down at his glass. He noticed the man's hand resting casually on the bar, just a few inches away. Wilson stared at the gap between their hands and wondered what on earth he'd do if the stranger stretched out his fingers, and touched –

A fly buzzing around the bar landed on the edge of his glass. Wilson reached out to brush it away, just as the stranger did too, and for a second or two their hands met in mid-air, the other man's fingertips brushing Wilson's knuckles.

The fly droned up towards Wilson's head, towards his face; Wilson jerked his head sideways, and the stranger reached up and flicked at Wilson's hair, which was flopping over his forehead. Wilson felt the man's fingertips just lightly brush the edge of his eyebrow, the side of his head, and then run briefly through a few strands of his hair. The fly was deftly expelled, and propelled to the other side of the bar. The man's hand ended up curled around Wilson's ear, and suddenly he seemed to be sitting a lot closer than before.

'Everyone's buzzing round you this evening,' the man said, and added with a look of amused apology, 'Like bees round a honey pot.'

It was corny. Wilson laughed out loud, and felt the man's hand move from his ear to touch his cheek. His fingertips were ever so slightly calloused. Wilson felt them graze against his face, very lightly.

_Oh my God he's going to kiss me,_ Wilson thought, caught between panic and arousal.

Then Wilson nearly jumped out of his skin as House landed behind him.

'Wilson.' House put his chin on Wilson's shoulder and hissed in his ear. 'So good of you not to actually start fucking someone else before I got back.'

'House!' Wilson said, embarrassed.

The stranger leaned back, rested an elbow on the bar and looked amused. House glared at him, and said, 'And you can piss off.'

'House!' Wilson said again, angry this time.

The man held up his hands and looked at House. 'It's cool. I'm not trying to steal him from you.'

House didn't break his glare. The man got up and turned to walk away. As he turned, he said to House over his shoulder, 'You can't blame me for wanting to fuck him, though.'

Wilson heard this, and felt slightly dizzy. He picked up his glass and drained most of it in a gulp. House glowered at him, and placed both hands on the bar, one either side of Wilson, trapping him against the counter.

'I leave you alone for five minutes and you pick someone up. _This_ is why we don't go to places like this. For Chrissake, it's bad enough with the women.'

'House, we were just talking,' Wilson said, annoyed, but wanting to reassure at the same time. 'That's all.'

'Bullshit. He was touching you. I saw the way you were looking at him. You were flirting with him. And _he_ looked like he was just waiting to eat you up.'

'House,' Wilson said pacifyingly, and touched House's arm. 'It's OK. Be cool. Nothing happened. Nothing's gonna happen.'

Wilson was still perched on a bar stool; House was standing right in front of him, close. Wilson pushed a knee gently against House's inner thigh. House's expression didn't waver, but he pressed slightly back. Wilson was encouraged enough to reach out, and hooked a hand round House's head. He stroked the skin at the back of House's neck, and then ruffled the hair on the back of his head. House leant his head back into Wilson's hand. Wilson increased the pressure, pulling House towards him.

House still looked stern, but leant in for a kiss. Wilson breathed in House's warm, familiar smell as their faces came together. Wilson fastened his mouth firmly on House's and slid in his tongue. House grunted slightly, and thrust his own tongue back. Wilson grabbed House's lips between his teeth and sucked, feeling a wave of desire sweep over him.

House clearly felt the same, as he pulled back and said, 'Drink up, we're leaving.'

Wilson turned slightly to reach for the glass, and as he did so, both he and House saw that the stranger was still there, standing a few feet away.

'And I suppose you'd like to watch,' House said, in an unfriendly way.

'If that's an offer, hell yes,' the man replied.

Wilson choked slightly as he drained the glass. He felt House's body jerk slightly against him, and for the first time that evening Wilson felt House's cock harden as it pressed against his hip. _Whoa_.

'Not an offer,' House said, from between clenched teeth.

The man moved forward a pace. 'Think about it for a moment. I think you'd like it. Have you ever watched him suck another man's cock while you fuck him? I tell you, you'd find it the biggest turn-on.'

House flinched again, and Wilson thought incredulously, _My God, he's tempted!_

Wilson waited for House to tell the man to go fuck himself. But somehow that didn't happen. Instead House looked at the ground, apparently thinking, then raised his head and stared directly at the stranger.

'Ground rules,' House said shortly.

Wilson's jaw dropped. The man stepped up close to them. 'Go on.'

'Hey - ' Wilson started to say, but House cut him off and addressed the other man as if Wilson wasn't there.

'You wear a condom.'

'Done,' the man said promptly.

'And no kissing him on the mouth.'

The man blinked. 'What is this, _Pretty Woman_?'

House glared at him. 'I mean it. Dealbreaker.'

The man shrugged. 'Fine.'

House shrugged back. 'OK.'

_'House!'_ Wilson said incredulous and angry. 'We need to talk.' He looked at the stranger and ever polite, despite the incongruity, asked, 'Will you excuse us for a second?'

'With pleasure,' the man said, and looked towards the barman.

Wilson stood up and stalked off down the room. House followed, and perched on a stool down at the end of the bar. Wilson stood looking at him, hands on hips, fuming.

'House, what the fuck are you playing at?'

House looked back with wide eyes. 'I'm doing what you want, aren't I?'

'What, pimping me out to some total stranger?' Wilson spluttered.

'Oh come on.' House rolled his eyes. 'You're the one who was so keen to stay in this bar in the first place. You're the one batting your eyelashes around trying to pick someone up. You think I didn't see you noticing biker boy there at the bar earlier? And you were about to kiss him when I got back just now. Basically if I hadn't been here and you'd come into this bar on your own, you'd have gone for it like a shot and you'd be outside fucking him right now.'

'Bullshit,' Wilson snapped. 'You're an ass, and you're making excuses because you're behaving like an arrogant bastard. This isn't about me, it's about you, your paranoia, and your dick. What he said turned you on, and you went for it without even asking me. Without even _looking_ at me.'

House sighed. 'Alright, forget it. _Forget it_.' He threw up his hands. 'I'm going back to the motel. You can come with me, just the two of us, and we'll forget this ever happened. Or you can go riding off with biker boy into the sunset and fuck him on the beach.' He glared at Wilson. 'Just don't expect to drive on with me tomorrow if you do.'

Wilson hesitated. He didn't entertain House's last suggestion for a moment; there was no way he was leaving House to go off with the strange man. Never even the slightest doubt, just not an option, however much of an ass House was being at the moment.

But Wilson also thought about the strange man at the bar and how strongly he'd been drawn towards him. It had been a long time since he'd felt that immediate sexual attraction on meeting someone – not since he'd first met House, a few years ago now. And here he was, in a strange place, away from the usual rules and conventions, which might as well be another world, and House had actually offered him an in on it.

'No,' Wilson said.

'No, what?' House raised his eyebrows.

'We'll do it your way,' Wilson said smoothly. 'He can come back to the motel with us.' He reached forward and touched House lightly on the arm. 'Just don't assume you know what's going on in my head, OK? Next time, ask me what the hell I'm thinking.'

* * *

Wilson thought the short walk from the bar to the motel was unbelievably surreal. He moved as if in a dream, House's hand firmly resting in the small of his back, the two of them walking close and bumping shoulders just like always; but there was someone else with them, walking a couple of steps behind. And that man was going back to their motel room with them. And Wilson realized he didn't even know his _name_. Somehow it hadn't come up in conversation. He thought about asking, but decided perhaps it was better not to know.

* * *

'You OK with this, pretty boy?' the man asked, as he stood in the motel room and unzipped his fly.

'Yeah. It's cool,' Wilson said. It _was _cool. In fact, Wilson couldn't believe how calm he felt about it.

In contrast, House was clattering round the room, banging cupboard doors, picking things up and putting them down again, and generally looking everywhere except towards the bed.

The man perched on the side of the bed, took out his cock and rolled a condom on swiftly. Wilson eyed him hesitantly, not quite sure what to do first. If this was House, he'd have kissed him on the mouth; but it wasn't, and that was off the menu anyway. House rules.

Wilson reached down and took the man's cock in his hand instead; the man immediately sucked in his breath. Deciding he couldn't stay standing or he would end up kissing, Wilson dropped to his knees and guided the man's cock towards his mouth. He started to lap at the head. The man put his hand on Wilson's head, muttering furiously, _'Such a pretty face. Such a pretty mouth__.'_

Wilson took a deep breath and took as much of the man's cock in his mouth as he possibly could. The man groaned and thrust; and then Wilson heard a strangled inaudible sound from the other side of the room, followed by the _thump _of House's footsteps striding swiftly across the floor. _Oh God he's gone apeshit_, Wilson thought, and expected to feel House's hands pulling him up, dragging him away.

Instead he felt House suddenly behind him, his hands on Wilson's hips, and his voice in Wilson's ear, _'You're such a fucking slut, Wilson, you're loving this - '_ and then his hands moved forward to find Wilson's belt buckle. Wilson struggled to carry on sucking off the other man, while House undid Wilson's jeans and pushed them down his thighs.

'Told you this would be a turn-on,' the man above panted.

'Shut the fuck up,' House snapped. Wilson heard the rustling sound of House unbuttoning his own jeans, then the _click_ of a lid coming off a tube, then a minute later he felt House's cock - hard, slick, and Oh God so much more familiar than the strange one bearing down in his mouth - pressing against his ass.

House rubbed his cock against the crack of Wilson's ass, harder with each stroke, while also stretching a hand around to grasp Wilson's cock. Wilson trembled at House's touch, House's palm snug around him, so intimate, so knowing. House moved his hand, and Wilson flinched as House's fingers probed his ass, initially raw and slippery; then warmer, then stimulating and sensuous; Wilson rolled his head around and the stranger above him made a muffled sound.

Wilson felt the man above bracing himself against the bed, then House thrust deep inside him. Wilson's whole body jerked convulsively and he momentarily lost the rhythm with the other man, who let out a yelp. Wilson groped blindly to find him, and the man moved into his mouth again just as House thrust again from behind. This time, Wilson took it much more easily, catching House's motion, and managed to match it with the competing pulse from the stranger in his mouth. Wilson could barely keep up with the different sensations from all sides; the throb of House's cock, deep in his ass, and the bucking movement from the stranger above; and himself in the middle, somehow experiencing what both of them were feeling, and more -

The stranger came first, House a few seconds behind, and then House reached round and took Wilson's own cock in his hand. Just the slightest grip from House's fingers was enough to take Wilson over the edge too.

* * *

After a minute, Wilson crawled up onto the bed and fell like a stone onto his stomach. House clambered up beside him, and sat leaning against the headboard. The other man got up and went straight to the bathroom, for which House was silently grateful.

House looked down at Wilson, and seeing him lying very still was momentarily alarmed, but then he saw that Wilson had simply fallen asleep. Wryly amused, House reached for a handkerchief, cleaned himself up and buttoned up his jeans; somehow it seemed important to look at least vaguely decent for when the stranger reappeared. House looked down at Wilson, who still had his own jeans half way down his legs; it seemed like too much effort to do anything about that, at least while Wilson was asleep. House tried to pull the bedcovers up over him, but only got them part way before finding Wilson was lying right on top of most of them.

The man returned from the bathroom, fully dressed and looking pretty much as he had done when he walked in the room. He picked up his jacket from a chair. For a second, House thought the man was simply going to leave, which would have been a relief, but instead he reached into the inside pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He flipped it open and offered it to House. House took a cigarette with barely a hesitation, accepted a light, and drew deeply on the cigarette. House rarely smoked – Wilson didn't like it - but this definitely seemed to be a situation meriting it.

The man sat down and lit his own cigarette, and House noted with approval that he had the sense to keep his distance, sitting in an armchair next to the bed, rather than on the bed. House held the cigarette in his right hand, and absent-mindedly stroked the sleeping Wilson's head with his left.

'You two are cute together,' the man remarked.

House reluctantly decided that the cigarette acceptance meant he shouldn't chuck this guy out just yet. He grimaced and said, 'Spare me the _cute_. I'll take _hot_.'

'That too,' the man agreed, and breathed out a lungful of smoke. 'He said you were on a road trip? And he didn't know where you were going.'

'He's got a big mouth,' House said shortly, only realizing the double entendre as he spoke. The man smirked and House couldn't help but smirk too.

House continued, 'I had to get away for a few days.' He tapped ash onto the bedside table, and added by way of explanation, 'I'm a screwed up fucker. He didn't have to come with me.'

'He tries to look after you,' the man said perceptively.

House snorted. 'He needs to be needed. Don't be fooled by his angelic looks. He's just as screwed up as I am.' He looked down at Wilson, who couldn't have looked more peaceful, and ruffled his hair. 'He's married, for a start.'

The man digested this, then chuckled. 'Go figure.' He dragged on his cigarette. 'I'm glad I met you guys.'

House didn't think this warranted a reply. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. House watched the man in the armchair puff on his cigarette and gaze at Wilson. Gaze at Wilson's ass, to be precise; it was just visible through the bed covers. The man shifted slightly in his seat, and House's gaze switched to the crotch of the tight black leather pants. It looked uncannily like the stranger was getting hard again.

'You look like you could go all over again. What are you, fourteen?' House demanded.

'Just a horny bastard.' The man stubbed his cigarette out. 'Specially when I'm looking right at an ass like that.'

A tinny ring tone filled the room; the man groped in his jacket pocket for his cell phone. House glared at him. The man flipped open the cell, stood up and started walking towards the bathroom. 'Hello? Yeah – no, just I'm having a quiet evening…'

His voice faded out as he shut the bathroom door behind him. House stubbed out his own cigarette and looked down at Wilson, who had stirred at the sound of the phone.

House recalled the sight of Wilson sucking the man's cock a few minutes before, and how utterly erotic he'd found it. He tried to picture the sight of the man with his cock up Wilson's ass. Actually that was pretty damn hot as well. To his amazement House found himself getting hard at the thought. Maybe this evening wasn't over yet.

House scooted down the bed and spoke into Wilson's ear. 'Wilson.'

Wilson's eyes opened and he peered hazily at House. 'House.' His eyes focused as he woke up. 'Hey.' He moved his head to look for the stranger and not seeing him, looked back at House.

House mimicked holding a phone in his hand and nodded towards the bathroom.

Wilson nodded back, and asked, ' So - what's happening?'

'Well, I guess that's up to you,' House said carefully. 'We can bid our new friend goodbye and you can go right back to sleep.' He paused, then added, 'But if you'd like, he's still got the horn, and is obviously only too willing to fuck you.'

Wilson frowned, absorbing this information. 'Right.'

'Your choice. I don't mind,' House added nonchalantly. 'So long as I get a ringside seat.'

Wilson snorted, amused and disbelieving. 'You've got to be kidding me.'

House shrugged. _Better that it happens this way, when I'm here, when I can watch, when I can control what the hell happens. _

The man emerged from the bathroom, flipping his phone shut. House watched Wilson looking at the man, at those soft grey eyes, at the muscles in his arm, at that bulge in his pants. He could see Wilson going through a similar thought process to the one House had just gone through;_ that could be hot._

Wilson looked at House. 'All right. And thanks for checking with me this time.'

The man looked at them both, not sure what was going on. House jumped straight in, saying gruffly, 'If you're wanting to get rid of that hard-on, you can stay here and fuck Wilson. I get to watch. Same ground rules as before.'

'Sure,' the man said instantly.

'I mean it,' House growled. 'Kiss him on the mouth and I'll kick you into the middle of next week.'

'I get it.' The man looked at Wilson searchingly for a moment, then came and sat on the edge of the bed. Wilson sat up, said, 'Give me a sec,' stood up and padded off to the bathroom.

House went and sat in the armchair. He picked up the other man's jacket from the back of the chair, felt in the inside pocket, and found the packet of cigarettes. He took one out and put the packet down on the bedside table. The man raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything.

Wilson emerged from the bathroom looking slightly less disheveled than before. He had shed his jeans now and was wearing his T-shirt and boxer shorts. House stared at him, rolling the unlit cigarette between his fingers, and felt his erection grow. Wilson was just far too goddamn attractive when slightly nervous and a trifle self-conscious. And with mussed up hair that he'd clearly just slicked back with a wet hand.

The other man rose to his feet and walked swiftly over to Wilson. For a second rage flared suddenly inside House as he _really, truly_ thought the man was going to kiss Wilson on the mouth. But instead the stranger walked behind Wilson and put his arms around his chest. House relaxed slightly, and watched as the man ran his hands up and down Wilson's body. Wilson closed his eyes and leaned in as the man put his hands down Wilson's boxer shorts and grasped his ass.

The man put his face against the back of Wilson's head and seemed to be muttering again, though House couldn't really hear; it sounded like _'Pretty boy_,_ pretty boy._'

'So how do you wanna do this then?' Wilson murmured.

'I think we need to do it so your boyfriend can watch,' the man replied, and House twitched slightly at the word _boyfriend_. Wilson opened his eyes to look at House, and House glared back at him, thinking, _Wilson, you bastard, you forgot I was here for a minute_.

The man guided Wilson over to the side of the bed, and suddenly things moved very quickly. The next thing House knew, Wilson was on his knees on the floor, leaning on the bed, and the man was slipping on a condom for the second time that evening. House clutched the unlit cigarette between his fingers and felt his own breathing become heavy, as he watched the stranger slicking up, while Wilson looked first over his shoulder to see the strange man who was about to fuck him, and then up at House. House caught Wilson's eye, and read that Wilson was hot, and horny, and thinking about House, and that was all he needed to know. The sight of the stranger readying himself to thrust into Wilson made House's cock push violently upwards; House unbuttoned his own jeans to free himself.

The stranger put one hand on the back of Wilson's head, running his fingers through Wilson's already mussed up hair, while feeling Wilson's ass with his other hand, sliding between the curve of his buttocks. Wilson's body arched and convulsed slightly, and he pushed his head back against the heel of the other man's hand.

With a grunt, the man thrust roughly into Wilson, pushing him hard against the bed. House grabbed his own cock and started to roll back and forth, unable to take his eyes off the sight of someone else - and he didn't even know _who_ he was - fucking Wilson up the ass. He saw Wilson initially gasping in pain, then starting to relax, and then - _then_ - moving with the stranger, being carried along by his movement, shutting his eyes, feeling the sensations, pressing into the mattress - House saw the stranger was about to climax, felt his own body convulse, and they both came at the same time - the stranger into Wilson and House into his own fist.

Wilson was left temporarily bereft and gasping, then the stranger reached down, murmured, 'Hang on in there, pretty boy,' and gripped Wilson's cock in his hand. House snarled through panting breaths, _'Wilson - you slut_ -' and it was House's words that made Wilson come, his head rolling madly and his eyes fixed on House.

* * *

Next morning, House and Wilson came back to the bar for breakfast, as it seemed to be the only place within miles serving bacon and black coffee, and they both felt they needed the sustenance with a hard day's driving ahead of them. House wore dark glasses and kept Wilson close to him; but the place was pretty empty, with just a few people sitting around and eating, reading newspapers and chatting in a desultory fashion.

They finished breakfast, and House went off to the bathroom. Wilson was still at the table, pulling on his jacket and wondering whether to volunteer to drive first, when suddenly someone sat down next to him; and it was the man from the previous evening.

'Oh! Hi,' Wilson said, uncertain of how to react.

'Hi. Don't worry, I'm not here to cause trouble,' the stranger said swiftly. 'Just dropped by on the off chance you'd be here. Wanted to do this, which we never quite managed last night.'

And he leaned forward and kissed Wilson hard on the mouth. Wilson was taken by surprise, and didn't react for a second or two, but then he closed his eyes, and kissed back.

The stranger pulled back, looked at Wilson with a twinkle in his eye, and then he was gone.

Wilson sat for a moment, smiling stupidly to himself, and then hastily erased his expression at the sight of House coming out of the bathroom. Wilson stood up and went to join House; they bumped shoulders and strolled outside together.

Wilson noticed that House was humming _Let me take you to a gay bar, _and had a sudden premonition of how annoying that was going to get over the next hundred miles.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE:** Gay Bar Two**  
AUTHOR: ** hwshipper**  
DISCLAIMER:** All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.**  
****BETA:** starlingthefool

**Gay Bar Two**

House and Wilson stared through the windshield at the large tree trunk blocking the highway in front of them. Men were busy with buzz saws, but it didn't look like the road would be clear any time soon.

"Now what?" Wilson asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"We could have an early lunch," House suggested. "We passed that sign to a beach steakhouse just a few miles back. We could probably drive along the beach road afterwards and get back on the highway further along."

Wilson nodded, executed a careful u-turn, and they headed back to the junction.

* * *

Half an hour later, they found the steakhouse. It was situated right by the beach, with large windows open to the sea air. Although it was on the early side for lunch, there were already quite a few diners there. House and Wilson got a large table looking out onto the sand. The breakfast bacon already seemed a long time ago; Wilson ordered a steak and House ordered surf n' turf.

While they waited, Wilson flicked idly through a newspaper, and House stared out of the window and thought about the night before. About the anonymous stranger who had picked up Wilson in the bar and come back to their motel room with them. House closed his eyes and thought about what had happened.

Their meals arrived, and House's surf n' turf came with the shrimp neatly lined up on a skewer. As House eased the first one off with a fork, he looked at Wilson just in time to see Wilson biting into a singularly juicy looking piece of meat. Wilson had asked for it to be rare, and it was very rare, with the slightest trace of blood oozing out as Wilson bit into it. House watched, mesmerized, as Wilson chewed, swallowed, and licked the blood off his lips. House started to wonder if the beaches around this area had any appropriately deserted corners where he could go and fuck Wilson into the sand.

They were having coffee after their meal, and starting to think about moving on, when the door opened and a waiter walked in, chatting warmly to another man following a few paces behind.

And that man was _him_. The stranger from the bar the night before.

He saw House and Wilson at the same time as they saw him. The man's jaw dropped and he stopped in his tracks. House decided they were all equally shocked.

Time ws momentarily suspended while House decided what to do. They could just ignore each other, the stranger would walk on, and that would be that - a tiny little postscript to their sexual adventure. He and Wilson could remark on it afterwards and say what a strange coincidence that was, bumping into him in that restaurant.

Or - and here House just caught an edge of desire on Wilson's face - they could acknowledge each other, and see what happened next. House's sex on the beach fantasies suddenly took on a whole new set of possibilities.

"Won't you join us?" House said smoothly.

The stranger looked nonplussed and indecisive, and hesitated. He then looked at Wilson, and Wilson nodded almost imperceptibly. House could feel a connection going on that he wasn't part of. The man then turned and nodded to the waiter, and sat down at their table.

"How strange, seeing you here," he ventured. "I would have thought you'd be miles away by now."

"Tree on the road," House explained. "Stopped for an early lunch."

"Good lunch?" the man asked.

"Very nice," Wilson said. House nodded in agreement.

"Glad to hear it," the stranger said lightly. "I'm the owner. Consider it on the house."

House raised his eyebrows, and saw Wilson mirroring him. "You _own_ this restaurant?"

"Yes, I do. And the bar we were in last night." He looked a little sheepish. "I'm quite the pillar of the local business community, believe it or not. I own a second bar too, more of a club, down the coast the other way. Of course, I employ good managers at each place, but I try and drop by each one most days to see how things are."

House recalled that he had never seen the man pay for drinks when they had left the bar last night; he had assumed that as a local, the man had a tab. It appeared the situation was a little different.

The stranger drummed his fingers on the table, a little nervously House thought, and said with diffidence, "I guess you're wanting to press on with your trip. And I need to do some business here, now. But - if you could spare another night in the area, you could stay at my place, hang out on my beach, and we could go to my club this evening."

He looked up and caught House's eye, and House read the further message loud and clear; _And I could fuck your boyfriend again. You could watch, or join in._

"Sounds good to me," Wilson said unexpectedly.

House glared at Wilson, and with a sense both of deja vu and role reversal, he said to the stranger with exaggerated politeness, "Could you excuse us for a second?"

"Certainly." The stranger rose gracefully and walked away.

House leaned across the table and hissed, "What the fuck are you playing at?"

Wilson spread his hands out. "Don't you want to do this?"

House looked at Wilson through narrow eyes. "You want this a bit too much."

"You're the one who's been salivating all through lunch, and not at the food," Wilson said with surprising bluntness. "You don't really want to get back in the car right now and drive on, do you?"

House didn't. He glowered for a few seconds, then said, 'All right. You watch it, though. No sneaking off with him behind my back."

* * *

They left the restaurant with a set of keys and directions. They drove back along the coastal road for a while, and eventually came to the stranger's house. It was large and spacious, all on one level, and set right on the beach. It had a pool by the house, and its own private section of sandy beach leading down to the sea.

They wandered through the house first, Wilson hanging back, protesting they were intruding; House striding forward, pointing out they were invited guests for goodness sake. The place was immaculately furnished, in a minimalist way.

There was very little that was personal on display, except for one photograph, beautifully framed, in the master bedroom. It showed a man, brown eyed and floppy haired, the camera catching him slightly off guard, arms folded and smiling rather self-consciously. House stared at it for several minutes before calling Wilson over.

'Doesn't this man look a bit like you, except for the glasses?" The man in the photograph wore small horn-rimmed spectacles.

The resemblance wasn't particularly marked, but they did have similar hair. Wilson was skeptical as to any likeness.

House and Wilson spent the afternoon swimming in the pool - House doing relentless laps, he had been feeling the lack of exercise after several days driving - and then lazing on the beach. House did most of the lazing; Wilson had a slight reversion to childhood, and started making sandcastles, paddling & swimming in the sea.

House was sitting back in a deckchair, watching Wilson bob around in the sea, and nursing a semi-hard erection, when the stranger eventually returned on his Harley. He parked it in a concreted area down next to the beach, took his helmet off, then strolled down a few paces to join House. House looked at the bike with covetous eyes, and thought that although he had no desire himself to fuck the stranger, by God he'd fuck his bike if he could. If that made any sense.

The stranger stood looking out to sea. Wilson, hearing the sound of the motorbike, had turned back towards the shore. As House and the other man watched, Wilson reached the shallows and stood up. Water cascaded down his body and the sun shone behind him, surrounding him in a golden halo.

"'I don't think I've ever seen anything so fuckable," the stranger remarked

House privately agreed, but his hackles rose at the reference to Wilson as a _thing_. He decided it was time to reestablish some boundaries.

"Let's get a few things straight here," House said gruffly. "Just because we're staying with you does not give you a license to start fucking Wilson whichever way you like."

"Ground rules, I know," the stranger said.

"Not just that." House fixed the man with a glare. "No sneaking off with him behind my back."

"Don't you trust him?" the stranger asked innocently.

"I don't trust _you_," House snapped.

"Fair enough. I don't trust you, with _that_." The stranger nodded towards his bike. "I'm going to get changed. No sneaking off with the Harley, right?"

House was amused. The stranger went off into the house.

Wilson approached where House was sitting, an area of sand covered with a blanket. He picked up a towel and rubbed his face and hair. Droplets of water scattered; House felt a few drops land on his face, cooling in the sun. There was a large rock conveniently placed for sitting on next to the blanket; Wilson perched on it.

"You know what our friend just said when you came out of the water?" House said, getting up from his deckchair. "He said he'd never seen anything as fuckable as you."

Wilson's cheeks, already pink from the sun and being rubbed by the towel, turned redder still. House sat next to Wilson and added, "But he's out of luck; he's gonna have to wait his turn."

House kissed Wilson on the mouth, and tasted salt. Brine, from the sea; House felt a thrill ripple through his body at the taste. He ran his tongue over Wilson's top lip first, then his bottom lip, then over his teeth, relishing the saltiness; Wilson moaned a little. House moved to kiss Wilson's neck; slightly wet, covered in small grains of sand, and also salty. Damn, Wilson was going to taste like this _everywhere_. House shook a little at the realization. House pressed his body up against Wilson, rubbing his cock against Wilson's thigh.

Wilson gasped, and said, "You'll have to give me a few minutes to catch up with that. It's cold in there, you know."

"You'll catch up soon enough." House slid a hand down inside Wilson's swimming shorts, feeling Wilson's ass, clammy and damp from the sea. He felt Wilson's cock jump at the touch.

House dropped to his knees on the blanket, and pulled down Wilson's shorts. There was sand on the blanket and House felt it as grit under his knees. The wind chose that moment to whip round the beach, and Wilson let out an exclamation. House ignored this and took Wilson's cock, semi-hard, in his mouth. He ran his tongue down the shaft, relishing the salty taste, acrid, brackish, the taste of sex straight from the sea. He felt sand on his teeth, the tiny grains crunching against enamel. He pulled and sucked on Wilson's cock, hearing Wilson groan above him, and feeling Wilson push further and further into his mouth until House was nearly gagging.

He stopped before Wilson got beyond the point of no return, looked up at Wilson's clenched, tortured face, and said, "Join me down here."

Wilson dropped to his knees and joined House on the blanket. The two of them knelt opposite each other, touching, and kissed, and stroked, and rubbed. In his peripheral vision House saw that the stranger had reappeared, and was sitting in the deckchair watching them with his own cock hanging out of his shorts. House ignored him. He knew that Wilson was aware, too, and thought that Wilson was playing up to that particular angle. Well, let him. Let the stranger watch and lust over Wilson. Wilson belonged to House right now and nothing was going to change that.

House grasped Wilson by the shoulders and muttered, "On your back."

Wilson's eyes were dark and liquid. "Make me."

Oh God, just when House thought he couldn't be any more turned on than he already was, Wilson knew exactly how to turn the screw.

"You bet your ass I will." House tightened his grasp and pushed Wilson backwards. Wilson resisted initially, and then went down in a flurry of sand. House was on top of him instantly, grinding, pushing. House was still wearing his own shorts and now he struggled to wriggle them off; Wilson paused for a second, giving him time, and then they were wrestling again, both naked now, Wilson still damp from the sea, House sweating from the sun.

House pinned Wilson firmly underneath him, then reached out, and grabbed a nearby bottle of suntan lotion.

"Whoa," Wilson said uncertainly, as House poured a liberal amount of lotion onto his hand.

"This'll be cold," House announced brightly, and eased a finger straight up Wilson's ass.

Wilson's eyes goggled and he made a sound rather like a squeak. Gratified, House withdrew slightly then pushed again, and again, and then added another finger. Eventually Wilson gasped, "House, just fuck me already."

"Oh yeah?" House loved hearing Wilson beg. He teased a bit more with his fingers. Wilson made a growling sound and House decided not to push his luck any further; he didn't want Wilson inviting the stranger to join in here.

Wilson's clothes were in a small heap next to the blanket, and House reached for them, knowing that Wilson's wallet was in the pocket of his pants, and Wilson always carried a condom in his wallet, the slut. He found it and rolled it on. House gave himself a second to revel in the moment; on a beach with the sun shining on his back and ass; Wilson beneath him, gorgeous as ever and panting to be fucked; and a voyeur looking on while jerking off. Then House moved between Wilson's legs, grabbed his hips, and thrust inside.

He wanted to watch Wilson's face, and see it contort and grimace with satisfaction, but his own thrill made House shut his eyes and just grind, losing himself in the feeling of being deep inside Wilson, and Wilson taking him in, moving with him, the two of them rocking and rolling on the blanket, the fabric harsh against skin, the sea breeze breathing fresh air against their bodies, the sun above beaming down warmth. House came within a minute or two, and Wilson, pressing his own cock hard against House's stomach, came all over his chest just a few seconds later.

As the two of them lay panting in a heap, the stranger remarked from the deckchair, "Fuck, never seen anything as hot as my own live-action porn."

* * *

In the evening they went to the club. The stranger drove them in his car. The club turned out to be a large bar on the beach, with a dance floor. Like the roadside bar the previous evening, the clientele was exclusively male; men hanging out, sitting close, dancing, necking.

As they came in, they were greeted by a large man in a suit. The stranger clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Guys, this is my manager here, Bob. Bob, these are my guests. They're not paying for anything here tonight."

"I'll put the word round." Bob looked carefully at them both, and then looked again at Wilson with a curious expression. Wilson felt slightly uncomfortable; House looked on and frowned slightly.

The stranger gave them each a small card. "That'll get you in the private room - invitation only." He nodded towards a flight of stairs. A bouncer stood at the door at the top. "I've gotta do some work - I'll catch you later. Have fun."

They did have fun. They hung out in the bar for a while, drank beer, shared a burger and fries, and watched a ball game on the big screen. House spent most of the time with an arm hooked around Wilson's neck, or looped around his waist; Wilson reveled in House touching him in public. He was still a little hesitant about it himself, but happy to respond. House was in a good mood, much more relaxed than earlier; Wilson thought the sex on the beach had sated him and given him reassurance.

After a while, they decided to try the private room, the inner sanctum, for 'invitees only'. They went up the stairs, and the bouncer looked at their faces - looked twice at Wilson's - and waved them in. They found a good sized room with its own bar, and a poker table in the middle, where a game appeared to have just finished; several men were standing up, stretching, and moving towards the bar.

House and Wilson went up to the bar, where the barman looked at them and served them immediately without asking for money. Clearly Bob had put the word around effectively. Wilson thought that this barman also looked at him a little longer than necessary.

"Can we join the game?" House asked the man leaning on the bar next to him.

"The more the merrier," the man replied, and held out a hand. "Hi, I'm Dan. You haven't been here before, have you?"

House shook Dan's hand, which immediately made Wilson raise his eyebrows. "No, we're just visiting. I'm Greg House, this is James Wilson."

Wilson, standing on the other side of House, nodded politely to Dan. Dan looked at Wilson, and then looked again, before turning back to House. Wilson was starting to get fed up at being stared at, and wondered what on earth this was all about.

Dan struck up a poker conversation with House, and although Wilson could have joined in, he chose to stand back a little, and watch House interacting instead. Dan was leaning in, using his hands expressively, not trying to touch but definitely flirting with House. House wasn't exactly flirting back, but there was just enough warmth in his attitude to keep Wilson a little bit on edge. Wilson wasn't used to feeling jealous. It made him feel uncomfortable and think he could perhaps understand a little more of House's occasional paranoia.

The poker players were moving back towards the board. Dan waved encouragingly at House and Wilson. House nodded, and looked at Wilson. Wilson was about to nod back, when suddenly he saw the stranger come out of a door behind the bar, and changed his mind.

"No, I won't, but you go on," he said to House.

House followed Wilson's gaze, saw the stranger, and realized why Wilson had refused. House looked at Wilson with a _watch it_ expression. Wilson met House's gaze straight on, and nodded.

House sat down at the poker table next to Dan. Dan offered him a cigarette; and Wilson watched as House not only accepted but then leant in unnecessarily close for a light. Wilson felt a little frisson of jealousy spark in his chest, as Dan's fingertips fluttered to touch House's hand.

Two could play at this game. Wilson greeted the stranger, who looked pleased to see him, and they went and sat by the window, and chatted. They sat sideways on, each of their bodies slightly angled to face each other. The stranger leaned back, at home, at ease in his own club, and talked about running three establishments, and asked Wilson about what it was like training as a doctor in a hospital. It was all very cozy. Wilson was aware, however, that the stranger was gradually moving ever so slightly closer towards him; that a gap of several inches was rapidly vanishing, and now the man's hand gestures and arm movements were causing him to brush slightly against Wilson.

When Wilson's glass was empty, the stranger said, "You're a whisky man? Do you drink Scotch?"

"Sure," said Wilson.

"I keep some single malts in my office, not for sale. Come and have a taste." The stranger jumped up and pulled Wilson to his feet. Wilson followed hesitantly as they went through the door behind the bar. He felt the eyes of several poker players on him.

They walked through a small corridor with office doors leading off it, and at the end, the stranger unlocked his door. It was an ordinary office, fairly sparsely furnished.

As soon as the door closed behind them Wilson found himself shoved back against the wall and the stranger's mouth on his. The stranger pressed his whole body up against Wilson's, pinning him to the wall. Wilson felt the man's cock, hard and getting harder, pushed up against his thigh, and was aware the stranger must be able to feel the same from him.

For a few seconds Wilson was caught in the moment, suspended in body heat and desire. The temptation to give in, to go with the flow, was strong. The man's mouth felt soft, yet demanding; Wilson could feel the muscles in his arms, the strength in his wrists, as he held Wilson's shoulder with one hand, and stroked the side of Wilson's head with the other.

Wilson wasn't above concealing a few kisses from House, but this was fast becoming more than that. And Wilson drew the line at fucking this man in his office while House was outside playing poker.

"No," he said as firmly as he could, when the stranger paused for air.

"I just want to fuck you, pretty boy," the stranger murmured.

"Not here. Not now."

The stranger's voice was plaintive. "Tell me you don't want this."

"Not like this," Wilson spoke more strongly.

The stranger breathed in hard. "I had my cock up your ass just yesterday."

Wilson swallowed. "Different. House—I'm not doing this."

For an instant Wilson wondered if he was in trouble, if the stranger wasn't going to take no for an answer. But then the man pulled away, and went and dropped into the chair behind his desk. He pulled open a filing drawer and pulled out a bottle of whisky and two glasses.

"You are just too perfect," he said, pouring whisky into each glass with an unsteady hand. "Pretty, intelligent, and loyal while just a bit naughty." He pushed a glass towards Wilson. "The Scotch. Not just a ruse."

Wilson stepped forward and took the glass, rather hesitantly. He didn't sit down. He sipped the whisky, and it burned. "My God, that's good. What the hell is that?"

"I got it in Scotland from the distillery; you can't buy it in this country." The stranger picked up his own glass, tipped his head back, and downed it in one. Wilson thought that was a terrible waste of such good whisky.

"You should go back to the club," the stranger added. "Half the guys round that poker table will be assuming that I'm fucking you in here."

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "You do this sort of thing often?"

"Often as I can," the stranger said nonchalantly. "When you own a place like this, it's not hard to get pretty young men up to bang in your office."

Wilson was torn between feeling revolted and aroused at the thought of himself being banged in this office, as one of a stream of anonymous one-night stands. He thought the stranger was telling the truth, but also thought there was some bravado in his tone.

"You're lonely," Wilson said slowly. "You haven't always been like this."

The stranger took another glass out of the drawer and tipped whisky into it. He shoved it across the desk at Wilson. "Go back to your boyfriend."

* * *

Wilson went back into the private room with the two glasses of Scotch, to find the poker players taking a comfort break. House was stretching his arms and looking around the room with a grim expression. Wilson sidled back to his previous seat by the window; House spotted him, and Wilson saw instant relief, quickly concealed. House made his way over and fixed Wilson with a gimlet stare.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"The proprietor keeps the best whisky in his office." Wilson handed House a glass.

House took it but didn't drink. He was scanning Wilson up and down, and Wilson knew what he was looking for; rumpled clothing, torn-off buttons, any sign of post-orgasmic glow. Wilson bore the scrutiny without comment. House glanced at the clock on the wall, and Wilson saw him deciding that Wilson simply hadn't been out of the room long enough for anything significant to happen.

"The guy sitting next to me," House said, and hesitated, "said, _if he's gone to the office then wait and listen for the squeals_."

Wilson's cheeks burned. "Nothing happened."

"Yeah." House took a swig of the whisky, and his eyes widened. "What the hell! I'd almost forgive him fucking you for whisky like this."

Wilson noted the _almost._

A few minutes later, the stranger emerged from the door behind the bar. Wilson had wondered if he'd stayed behind to jerk off; but looking at him, decided probably not. The man did look as though he had had too much of his own whisky, though. In fact, Wilson wondered if he hadn't taken something else too.

Wilson wasn't the only one with the same thought; one of the poker players nudged another, and mimed a large sniff. And House remarked to Wilson in a voice so quiet that Wilson could barely hear, "Looks like he didn't take rejection too well."

Wilson was uncomfortable. The stranger disappeared out down towards the main club.

The poker game restarted a few minutes later. Wilson again decided not to join in; he just wasn't in the mood. He watched House regaling the other players with amusing trivial facts. Wilson thought that Dan was still trying to flirt with House, but House wasn't giving anything back any more.

A bit later, Wilson was feeling more relaxed and mellow, when he heard some shouting outside the window. He turned to peer out. It had gotten dark quickly and a couple of people standing outside with beers were calling,"Turn the lights on." Someone inside heard and flicked a switch, as outside lighting suddenly came on, temporarily dazzling. Wilson squinted, then remembered he had his sunglasses in his pocket from earlier. He fished them out of his pocket and put them on.

As he did so, the stranger reappeared in the room. Wilson glanced sideways, peering through the sunglasses, to see the man looking at Wilson from the side, and suddenly - the stranger dived at Wilson and tried to kiss him. Wilson, taken completely by surprise, found lips briefly thrust against his own lips, before he moved his head to one side. The stranger grabbed Wilson by the shoulders and pulled him close.

"'No!" Wilson protested, but the stranger dived in again and lunged towards him. Wilson felt his full body pressed against him.

Then the pressure abruptly ceased, as the stranger was pulled away, and Wilson saw House hauling him off from behind. House spun the man around, and socked him in the nose. The man fell to the ground.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" House shouted, standing over him.

Two of the poker players grabbed House from behind, one on each arm, and pulled him back. House shook them off and stormed out. Wilson pulled off the sunglasses and followed House without hesitation.

House walked out of the private room, down the stairs, and out of the club. He stopped outside, breathing hard. Wilson caught up and came to face him.

"House, I don't know what the hell happened just then—" Wilson began

"I know," House cut Wilson off. "I saw. I heard you. It was him." House was furious. Wilson was glad the anger wasn't directed at him.

They stood there outside the club for a few minutes, and Wilson found himself wondering rationally how they would get away from here without a car. The stranger had driven them there. And where would they go? Their own car and all their stuff was at the stranger's house.

"Something happened." House said, frowning, already calming down. "He saw you in the glasses..."

The stranger appeared, holding a handkerchief to his bloody nose. House stiffened at the sight and moved so he was standing between the stranger and Wilson.

"I'm sorry. I was way out of line," the man said.

House looked unflinching. His arms were folded.

"Look, I'll drive you back to my house," the man urged. "You can still stay, or go, whatever you want."

Wilson was sure House would refuse. Instead, House said slowly, "All right."

Wilson realized that House's curiosity as to what had just happened was even stronger than his anger now. There was a puzzle here, and as ever, House wanted to solve it. They got in the car. House announced he was sitting up front, in a tone that brooked no argument. Wilson sat in the back, feeling that the evening couldn't get any more surreal.

They drove for a long time without anyone saying anything.

Mid-journey, House asked into the silence, "Who's the guy in the photograph? The guy in the glasses?"

The man was silent for a long time, so long that Wilson thought he just wasn't going to reply. But then he said, "My ex."

"And why's he your ex?" House probed.

There was another silence, not so long, then, "He went back to his wife."

There was a pause, then the stranger added, "Don't let the same thing happen to you," as if Wilson wasn't there and listening in the back seat.

"It's not like that," House said inadequately.

"I'm glad to hear it," the stranger said smoothly.

They traveled the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

They arrived back at the house. The stranger parked, got out of the car and walked straight into the house.

House and Wilson got out more slowly. Wilson pulled House aside, and plucked the sunglasses out of his shirt pocket. He put them on.

"Are you role playing?" House asked suspiciously.

"If you agree," Wilson folded him arms and adopted a stance like the man in the photo.

"You want to give him sex with his ex?"

"You don't?"

"No. I don't give a damn about his sob story. You think he wants a pity fuck?" House sneered.

"No, I think he wants a fuck," Wilson said sharply. "And that you were willing enough to go along with it before."

"Before he jumped you. _Twice_."

"The guy is miserable, high and horny, House. If it's anything like last night, it'll be hot, for all of us; and we'll never see him again afterwards."

House was silent for a moment, then he reached up and pushed Wilson's hair to one side a bit, like the guy in the photo.

They found the man in his living room, head in his hands, sitting motionless on the couch. It was dark. Wilson came in and stood with the glasses on, arms folded, in a similar pose to the photo. He felt rather ridiculous. How was he supposed to role play without knowing anything about the person he was playing?

But apparently the pose was good enough, because the man peered up, visibly tensed, then said, "Edward."

_Edward._ Wilson wondered whether to say something. He had no idea what Edward sounded like, of course.

The man carried on, "I said some bad shit to you, Edward. Christ, I'm sorry."

Wilson drifted across the room towards him, and decided to take a shot in the dark. Wilson dropped his voice to a whisper, and said, "You did. And now you're going to pay for it. I'm gonna fuck you into tomorrow."

Wilson instantly knew he'd hit the jackpot. The stranger's head jerked and rolled on his shoulders, and Wilson heard House, standing in the doorway, draw a sharp intake of breath.

* * *

In the bedroom, Wilson and the stranger both rapidly stripped. House, hovering nearby, wordlessly ripped open a condom packet and, pulling Wilson towards him, rolled the condom onto Wilson's cock himself. House then slicked lube onto Wilson's cock, rubbing up and down, and smeared more lube onto Wilson's hands. Wilson kissed House on the mouth and turned to the stranger. Standing behind the other man, Wilson reached round to grasp and rub the other man's cock with one hand, while feeling his ass with the other, stretching, probing.

The other man took up a position kneeling on the floor and leaning forward onto the bed, just as Wilson had done the night before. Wilson put a hand on the other man's hip, took a deep breath and thrust carefully up into his ass. The man gasped and clawed underneath him, and Wilson thought he heard a tiny, _"Edward..."_

"You deserve this, don't you?" Wilson replied in a low voice, and pressed in relentlessly, harder now, and faster as _Edward_ than he would have done as himself. The stranger cried out and buried his face in the bedcovers.

In the background, Wilson could hear House undoing his belt; the buckle made a metallic clinking sound as it dropped to the floor. Then House was right behind Wilson, also naked now, kissing the back of Wilson's neck, his cock hot and pushing up against Wilson's ass. House muttered in Wilson's ear, "Can you take me?"

"Yeah," Wilson muttered back, and House bit his earlobe gently.

Wilson felt the man underneath him shudder, and say through a mouthful of bed sheet, "A sandwich, fucking hell..."

Wilson leaned forward into the other man's back, and thrust firmly inside him again, as deeply as he could. The stranger took him all the way, though not without an effort; he strained and wriggled, and tried visibly to relax. Wilson felt House's fingers probing his ass, slippery and cold from the lube, and tried to relax himself - not easy when his own hard-on was aching for release now.

And then he felt House thrust inside him, and Wilson was so overwhelmed by the sensation that he nearly passed out. The world went black, and for a few seconds he couldn't hear anything. He was caught between House, pressing against his back, and the stranger, pressed up against his chest; House's cock up his ass and his own cock up the stranger's ass, and it felt like the thinnest veil of flesh separating the two. House thrust again, pushing Wilson still further up into the other man, who let out a sharp cry. Wilson, his vision blurred and a ringing noise in his ears, grasped the stranger's shoulders and came. The pumping motion took the other man over the edge as well, and Wilson felt the body underneath him shake and them go limp. House threw his arms around Wilson, clutching him close, then thrust once more, and Wilson felt House shudder and climax inside him.

* * *

A few minutes later, Wilson was groggily aware that House had gotten up and was leaving the room. Wilson assumed he was just going to the bathroom, but when House hadn't returned a few minutes after that, Wilson suddenly felt a sharp pang of worry. He hauled himself up and staggered off to the bathroom, leaving the stranger asleep on the bed.

Wilson cleaned himself up, pulled on some clothes, and went out to find House bustling around the kitchen, fully dressed including shoes and jacket. He was just picking up the man's motorbike helmet.

"House?" Wilson asked uncertainly.

"You've got one hour," House said briskly. "Kiss him, cuddle him, listen to his life story, skinny dip in his pool. Hell, fuck him again if you can; I don't care and I don't want to know. But I'll be back in an hour and then we are leaving."

"And you're taking the Harley for a spin in the meantime," Wilson realized.

"Fair swap, I think," House said nonchalantly. "Actually, let's say an hour and a half. I really want to test this baby along the coastal road." He picked up a bunch of keys from the kitchen counter and selected one.

"Be careful," Wilson couldn't help but say.

"_You_ be careful," House retorted, and stepped out of the door.

House was back an hour and a half later as promised, face flushed with exhilaration from the ride, and returning the Harley without a scratch. Wilson was waiting for him and ready to go; they drove off into the night, resuming their road trip. House never asked what Wilson had done in that last hour and a half, and Wilson never volunteered.

* * *

Six months later Wilson got an envelope in the post, addressed to 'Dr James Wilson, Resident, Boston Hospital.' Inside was a photo. It was the man, and Edward, together, smiling, and the photo had a date mark of just a few weeks before.

Wilson was happy to see it. He showed it to House, who merely grunted, but Wilson thought House was pleased too.

END

* * *

**Author's note:** Enjoy this? Want more? Then click on my username and find _The Story of Chris_ in my fic list. This tells what happened when Wilson met the mysterious stranger again, ten years later.


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